


Sweet, then Salty

by texantitan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texantitan/pseuds/texantitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles learns a new way to handle disgruntled customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet, then Salty

The bell on the coffee shop door jingled, and Stiles looked up from the counter he was wiping down. Fuck. The hottest guy he had ever seen stalked into the shop, pinning Stiles in place with the force of his glare. Stiles felt himself stiffen, his body freezing and his cock hardening in his pants. He’d always had a thing for the scary ones.

“Uh…Hi, can I…” Stiles trailed off midway through his standard greeting. Mr. Hot-but-Angry did not slow, but continued his stiff-legged stride across the 20 or so feet of the shop floor, up to the counter, behind which Stiles stood, brain short-circuited and mouth open. “Wha-…?”

“You fucked up my order.” The voice came out low and strained, intense. Stiles tore his gaze away from piercing grey eyes, distracted by the sound of cardboard hitting linoleum. A large coffee cup, with the shop’s logo printed on the side, rested on the counter, clenched in the man’s straining hand. 

“Fix it.”

Stiles jerked his eyes back up, once again caught in by angry death-glare. “Sir, I- , I mean, of course, I-. I-I don’t remember serving you, but- , I mean, wha-…”

“I ordered a Triple, Venti, Half Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato.” Brows drew in menacingly, as the man leaned forward. “This is not Non-Fat. I can taste the fat in it. It’s fatty. Fix it. Now.”

Stiles rushed to the espresso machine, mentally cursing Marcie in his head. He had just gotten on shift 15 minutes ago, and of course, not only did he have to clean up the physical mess she’d left behind, hence the counter cleaning, but also the existential mess as well. Marcie, a bio-chem major down at the U, had brains to spare, but she considered herself above such lofty concerns as, you know, doing her job correctly. At least twice a week, an irritated customer returned some to-go order, claiming it was made incorrectly. And it usually was. Although there was that one guy who always said he ordered his drink "wih mah-cha" (not mocha). Some people. So, while the angry customer’s hotness was unusual (mah-cha guy always wore the same scarf, with bits of food and mah-cha stains covering it, AND he smelled like mothballs and old cheese), the fact that an angry customer came busting in right after Marcie left, sadly, was not.

“Yes, sir. I’ll remake it right away. Sorry about that! It was a girl with freckles and red hair who made it right, Marcie? She always makes mistakes, I mean, she’s super smart right, but she always says that, when she’s a Nobel-prize winning scientist, that the coffee stuff won’t matter. I mean, she’s really nice, and, I guess I shouldn’t be trash-talking a coworker, she’s totally good at her job, and-…” Stile continued to babble, unable to stop the flow of words pouring from his mouth. 

Hot-but-Angry guy, with the surprisingly fussy coffee order, continued to glare at Stiles, but the look in his eyes became slightly less angry, and slightly speculative. As Stiles added espresso shots, non-fat creamer, and chocolate and caramel sauce to the sugary concoction, he could swear that he saw Hot-but-Angry’s eyes give him the full-body once over, lingering on Stiles’ ass, which Stiles noticed out of the corner of his own eye as he turned to grab one of those little cardboard thingies to put on the cup so it wouldn’t burn anyone’s fingers.

“Here you go, sir. I’m sorry about the mix-up. One Triple, Venti, Half Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato.” Stiles smiled shakily but triumphantly and set the new drink down on the counter beside the old drink. “Would you like me throw away the old drink…Derek?” Stiles saw the customer’s name written on the old cup in Marcie’s surprisingly whimsical handwriting (she had drawn smiley-faces in the e’s. Not what Stiles might expect from a future Nobel Laureate). Stiles reached to take the old cup from the counter. As he touched the cup, another hand wrapped around his own. Startled, his eyes darted up.

Derek smiled, a predatory smile, that brought back the erection that Stiles had lost while remaking the complicated drink. “I know how you can make it up to me.” Derek’s hand tightened on Stiles, before moving slowly up Stiles arm, caressing. 

“H-H-How…?” Stiles voice came out squeaky and fast.

“You use your mouth a lot. Use it on me.”

“Ummm…I- , you’re hot, like, really hot, and I’m-I’m not straight, but-but… I’m at work and-“ Stiles looked away, shock, embarrassment and desire running through his body, confusing but exciting.

Grey eyes flicked to Stiles name tag. “Stiles.” 

The power in that voice pulled Stiles’ gaze back towards Derek. Movement on the other side of the counter caught Stiles attention and he leaned forward and looked down. What he saw set off an explosion of lust and adrenaline in his body. Derek’s jeans lay open and unbuttoned, with one hand inside grey boxers, moving and working with purpose. As Stiles watched, Derek’s cock grew harder and Derek pushed his jeans down, exposing himself to Stiles. Stiles stared, transfixed, his mouth open, tongue between his teeth. He could feel Derek’s eyes on his face, but was unable to look away from the erotic display.

“You want this. I can smell it on you. Don’t you want to make me happy? I was upset, but you can make it all better. Come and suck my cock.” Stiles looked away from Derek’s crotch for a quick glance at his face, and saw a seductive smile curving Derek’s lips. Derek continued to speak persuasively. “I bet you know how to use that tongue.”

Stiles swallowed convulsively. “I-…I don’t wanna get fired.”

Derek maneuvered around the counter, opening the pass-through and shutting it behind him, his hand stroking his dick, over and over. He moved into Stiles’s space, too close, and Stiles felt his face flush as he tried to step back, only to be stopped by the counter at his back. “Derek. I-“

“Shhh… Come on, Stiles. Get down on your knees and make my cock happy.” Derek reached out and, still stroking his cock with one hand, placed the other behind Stile’s neck and pressed down. Stiles glanced around the coffee shop, to reassure himself that the place was empty, and allowed himself to be pushed down on his knees. 

He found himself at eye-level with Derek’s cock. He noticed the neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair that surrounded Derek’s impressive member, as well as his full, low-hanging balls. He leaned forward and breathed in, smelling Derek’s masculine scent, slightly sweaty from the heat outside. 

“That’s right. Open your mouth.” 

After one last moment of indecision, Stiles committed himself to the fantasy of what was occurring and dove in, dragging his tongue along the entire length of Derek’s hard cock, finding the taste irresistible. Despite the danger, or possible because of it, Stiles found himself turned on like he had never been before. Like anyone might, he had fantasized about hooking up with a hot customer, but it had always been a fantasy, seemingly unrealizable like other fantasies. But tonight, it was happening. Derek moaned appreciatively of Stiles’ efforts, and gripped Stiles’ shoulder bruisingly tight as Stiles did his best to shove Derek’s entire cock down his throat. 

Derek’s hands closed convulsively and a low growl echoed around the shop as Stiles worked his throat muscles around Derek’s thick length. Wet sounds, low moans, and the aforementioned growls filled the coffee shop obscenely. “That’s fucking hot, Stiles. Mmmm… Suck my cock. Take it all down your throat. Fuck!”

“Mmmmm…MMMm…” Stiles groaned and hummed, his throat vibrating, the sounds of his excitement muffled against Derek’s crotch. He rubbed his nose in Derek’s coarse hair, licking and sucking Derek’s shaft, while his hands pulled and tugged Derek’s full balls. 

Derek placed his hands firmly on Stiles head and began thrusting into Stiles’ mouth, short choppy thrusts that betrayed Derek’s quickly disappearing control. “God… Stiles, fuck!”

Stiles released Derek’s cock with a pop, pulling back briefly and gasping, “Derek… _pant pant_ …yeah, feed it to me. Let me taste your cum. God, I need it. Give it to me.”

Derek whined, a high-pitched desperate noise, and roughly shoved his cock as far down Stiles’s throat as he could get. Stiles choked, but grabbed Derek’s ass and pulled his cock in tighter. 

Derek cried out, sharp and harsh, and Stiles felt the pulse in his throat as Derek came in his mouth, one, two, three hard bursts of salt against his tongue. He swallowed, clenched his throat tighter, milking the last of Derek’s seed from his slit.

Derek held Stiles tight against him for a moment longer, then released him and pulled out, all in a rush. Derek smiled. “Damn, boy. I knew you could suck dick.” 

Stiles laughed shakily. “I’m here to service you.”

Derek smiled back. “What was the girl’s name? The one who always messes up people’s order? I’ll make it a point to order from her in the future. As long as you’re the one who cleans up her mess.”

As Derek tucked his softening cock back into his briefs and zipped up, Stiles took a moment, still on his knees, to send up a silent prayer of thanks for Marcie’s incompetence.

“I aim to please.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fanfic. If you have any feedback, send it my way. :-) This was fun.


End file.
